Those Who Favor Fire
by meritt
Summary: Juggling a vigilante career and a college workload didn't give Barbara time for much else. Too bad feelings for a certain ex-boy wonder decided to complicate things.


Had Barbara entered Wayne Manor through the front door? She doubted it. She would have remembered the way the door rose up and up and up over her head, dark, ornate, wood, practically dripping with money… She had barely rung the doorbell when Dick was there, easily pulling it open.

"Hey! You're here!" He grinned.

She was startled to see him in _jeans-_ no blue and black, no domino mask. It was strange.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, frowning, peering past him into the huge manor. "Have you guys already started?"

"No, you're good," he said, checking his watch. "You've only missed about five minutes of my absolutely scintillating conversational skills." He dramatically held open the door, greeting her with a small bow and a smile.

"Honestly, Dick." Barbara grinned, shaking her head as she followed him down the hallway. "What poor soul has been subjected to your conversational skills? Bruce?"

"No, Jason-" Dick laughed. "-And he's already threatened to beat me up twice. Ever been in the dining room?

"We won't be in the Batcave?"

Dick laughed. "The Batcave? Actually I was thinking we'd hang out in one of the sitting rooms or parlors, but Alfred said that was uncivilized.

"...Why would we be having a debrief in one of the parlors?" she said, stopping short.

"Oh..."

She watched Dick impatiently. He was scratching his head, looking almost sheepish, and definitely not providing any answers.

"Dick?"

"...I didn't say that this was lunch?"

"Dick!" she rolled her eyes. "I've literally got my suit in my bag!" she said, hefting it.

"Oops," Dick said. The fact that he was smiling like that made her doubt that he was actually sorry.

"You don't have to trick me into spending time with you, Boy Wonder," she teased, punching him in the arm.

"I wasn't!" he protested fervently as they started walking through the halls again. "I just didn't think to specify! You're the one who assumed it was business."

"Sure."

They came to the doorway of a heavily elegant room, chandelier, dark wood, tall chairs, and a smallish, dark haired boy sitting in the middle of it all.

"This is Jason," Dick said, walking in to ruffle the boy's hair, but Jason swatted his hand away. "I think you've met him as Robin."

"You're Batgirl?" he challenged her.

"Yup!" she answered openly. "What did you think I'd look like?" In jeans and a plain black long sleeved shirt, her hair down around her shoulders, she thought she looked pretty average.

"Older," Jason said decidedly, squinting at her.

"Funny, I'd say the same thing about you."

Dick laughed as Jason went, "Very funny," rolling his eyes.

"He's kind of sensitive about that," he whispered.

"Oh, sorry," Barbara whispered back, holding back a smile. They sat down and her thoughts wandered for a moment while Jason and Dick bantered. They sounded like brothers.

Leave it to Dick to organize something like this. Just because it was nice? He was so on top of things- honestly, what was holding all of them together, if it wasn't Dick? Things had been different with him in Bludhaven. And not good different, either. He was so _together._ She had no clue how he did it. But… it was nice.

She leaned back and tuned in.

"-and then it turned out that the bad guy was actually _behind me, _and so I-"

"Wait, wait, which bad guy?" Dick interrupted, grinning as he leaned forward.

Jason was practically jumping up and down. "The tattoo guy. He had a gun but I didn't care cause I was too fast for him anyway and so I turned around and then Bruce is all like, he does this really cool thing with his batarangs and the guy falls down before I even get a chance to go after him."

Barbara shook her head, grinning. "Wow, Jason, you and Bruce really get things done, huh?"

Jason beamed.

"I bet Dick has a few stories like that," Barbara said, smiling teasingly at Dick. "Being Nightwing and all."

"Look who's talking!" Dick said. "Plus, Jason already knows all of my stories. What have you been up to lately?"

Barbara looked up at the city and let out a long breath of air. "What _haven't_ I been up to? There's this one guy- his name is Gregory Galbraith- I think it's some kind of pied piper type deal- he's got a bunch of kids in the city following his every word, it seems like. And I can't tell if it's because he's got some kind of powers, or what."

"Dang. You gonna go after him?"

"Oh, definitely. It's just tricky- I'm not sure what to expect and I like to know what I'm getting into before I head into a situation like that on my own, you know?"

"I'll go with you!" Dick volunteered. "Take down the risk factor a little bit."

Barbara's heart pounded. "Oh, don't go to any trouble, I mean, I'm sure it'll be fine-"

"Of course it'll be fine: this is Batgirl we're talking about. But still."

Barbara shrugged, glancing down at her hands and then up at Dick. "I mean, if you want to. It's been a while since we worked as a team, huh?"

"Can I come?" Jason asked.

"Uh..." Barbara started.

"Not this time, buddy," Dick said.

"You both better not start acting like I'm just some kid-"

"We're not, Jay-"

"Oh yeah, _buddy?_" Jason asked and Barbara raised her eyebrows at Dick, hiding a smirk behind her glass. This kid could be sassy- what had Bruce gotten himself into?

"Jason-" Dick kept trying.

"You want me to prove I can fight? Let's go!"

Barbara giggled, and glanced at her phone. "I better get going. Nice meeting you, Jason." She stood up, and Dick looked up, quickly standing himself. "Thanks, Dick," she said, giving him a small smile over her shoulder as he followed her to the door. "Was this honestly… just lunch?"

"No ulterior motives here!" he said, spreading his arms with open hands, and she had the sudden urge to hug him. She bit her lip and stepped over the threshold instead.

"I'll text you about Galbraith. You free tomorrow night?"

"Yeah!" He didn't even have to think about it. Probably had his whole schedule memorized. "I'll see you then."

"Bye, Dick."

/

It was strange to have Dick crouching next to her on the roof, right across the narrow street from the building where Galbraith was supposed to be right now. He'd already been a huge help- he had this level of carefulness that Barbara just couldn't be bothered to learn, which meant they had made exactly zero mistakes during the fifteen minutes they'd been out here.

"So these are a bunch of teenagers," she was telling him. "Kids who've never caused a problem in their lives and suddenly they're getting arrested left and right. I'm thinking there's some kind of mind control, or at the very least some kind of superhuman charisma involved in all of this. I'm thinking we need to take Galbraith out of the equation if we're going to make any of it stop... and we're sure that they're across the street, right now?

He nodded.

"Sweet," she said, standing up and checking her gear as the wind whipped her hair over her shoulder. "Alright. I'm gonna go get him."

"Hey, be careful," Dick said, and Barbara gave him an odd look. Nobody ever said that, in the middle of a case. Did Dick think she needed to be told? She wasn't _that_ reckless.

She clenched her teeth, and swung. The abandoned office building she was heading towards rushed to meet her. One second, two, and the heels of her boots hit the window in an explosion of glass. She landed crouched in the building, having had just enough to time to unclip the cord she had swung on from her belt.

She found herself staring directly at Galbraith- she was at one end of the table, with the window to her back, and he was at the head, with everyone- just five of them, in ratty sweatshirts and jackets- gathered around him like moths to a light, their chairs crowded up around his. He was in black leather that looked like it had been burned. He was so pale he almost glowed, white-blond, greasy hair brushing the tops of his shoulders.

He stood slowly. They were all silent, so Barbara broke the silence, her voice coming out hoarse:

"Meeting's over, folks."

And then everyone moved. Galbraith stood up so fast his chair went backwards, and then he reached out one hand in her direction, looking almost desperate.

Barbara's brow wrinkled under her cowl. "Um-"

Fire shot from his fingertips. She dodged, shrieking, which was so bad for her image, but whatever- her cape was singed, and now she knew why he was so popular. Pyrokinesis. She practically growled, bounding over the table and springing at him so quickly he wouldn't have time to conjure fire again.

It was surprisingly easy to wrestle his arms behind him, even with his little flock of supporters, or followers, or whoever they were, trying to fend her off- they all obviously had no training. A well placed kick sent one boy sprawling, and even while keeping the pyromancer restrained, she managed to out-maneuver the rest of them without too much trouble.

What had Dick been worried about? This was going _fine._ Barbara would have this man- this _kid, _really, at the police station for questioning in an hour, tops, and then she could start making sense of the bizarre rash of crimes he'd been spreading throughout Gotham through his followers. Case closed. She just had to get him out of here.

"Okay listen, I'm not gonna hurt him," she said, still holding both of his wrists together tightly behind his back. "He's wanted for questioning, that's all, and now I'm understanding why he's been a little bit more than the police force can handle-"

"How about you let go of me," Galbraith, almost calmly. He was hanging loosely in her grip, making her support his weight, like he hadn't a care in the world.

"How about no," Barbara responded cheerfully. She bit her lip. Weight training this year had definitely been a good idea. She pulled him towards the window, figuring that once they were on the ground, she could call the police. She could let the two of them down nice and slow.

Huh, something was wrong with her gloves- it was like they were sticking to her palms- _hot, _they were _hot, _and this guy's wrists were on _fire._

She gasped, but managed not to shriek this time, springing away from him and glaring at him from across the room. He had the nerve to _smile, _and it took a lot of restraint to avoid, one, punching him in his stupid smug face, and two, ripping the smoking gloves off her hands _right now._

Her gloves weren't hot enough to melt, but they _burned- s_he wanted more than anything to rip them off, but, well, her hands would heal. Her fingerprints, however, would never _heal_ out of the police database, if officers found them all over the room.

A couple of Galbraith's followers ran at her with a chair and she leapt out of the way and up onto the table. She reached one hand up to hit her comm and found a fireball racing for her head. Nose wrinkled with annoyance, she swung off of the table and finally hit the comm:

"Um, Nightwing? Could use a bit of-" she grunted, blocking the punch of one of the followers who looked like he wanted to shove her backwards through the window- "backup."

She waited for his answer to come through her earpiece, and instead heard the soft _thump_ of his boots on the floor behind her. She spared half a second to glance back, and saw him framed by the smoky Gotham sky, glittering glass at his feet.

She grinned.

He grinned back, and then his expression changed under the domino mask- "Hey!" It was a warning.

By the time she'd turned back to face forward again he had already moved- he was beside her, surprisingly close, throwing up a fist right in front of the one that had been coming for her face.

A little bit flushed and alarmed at the stupid carelessness he'd just caught her in, Barbara flew into action, bringing the fight up a notch. They weren't here to play- she and Dick worked well together, finding themselves naturally fighting back-to-back half the time as they incapacitated the followers and avoided the Galbraith's fire.

When it was just him left, they cornered him in the dark side of the room. Barbara knew they must look scary as anything with all of the light from the window coming from behind them- silhouettes.

But a pyromancer wouldn't be scared of the dark.

"One step further and I'll burn this whole building down," he said.

Villains said things like that, like, a _lot._ It didn't phase either of them. Barbara shifted her weight, crossing her arms and tilting her head to the side. The epitome of chill.

"There's no need for that," she said amicably. "Nightwing and I just wanted to talk. Really. Right, Nightwing?"

"Yeah," he said, shifting similarly, so that he was just a bit closer to the pyromancer. "Just a little chat."

The two of them leaped at him.

"At the police station," Barbara finished, knocking the guy's legs out from under him so that Dick could catch him, and bolt with him towards the window.

"Watch out!" she warned, close behind him. "He burns!"

With the struggling pyromancer tucked firmly under one arm, Dick aimed his rappelling gun at the roof of a building across the street from him, and stepped calmly from the window. Barbara followed.

The three of them swung towards the ground quickly- by the time she felt the gritty pavement under her boots Dick had already got some kind of wire tying the pyromancer's hands behind him, and she was already hitting her comm to call the cops.

/

It was an easy job, maybe a little less mundane than usual. She and Dick didn't stick around long once they saw the cops pulling up.

"I think we make a good team," Barbara said, looking at him sideways with a little smile.

"Yeah, so do I," he said, and maybe he had been about to say something else, but Barbara was already in the air.

When they met at the top of a nearby building Barbara turned to him. "_Be careful_," she taunted, repeating his words from earlier. "I was fine!"

Dick shrugged. "We both knew there would be some kind of superhuman factor. It's good to be careful with stuff like that."

"Sure, but you don't need to tell me that. I'm not all that new to this, you know."

"Hey, I know you can take care of yourself, and that you're perfectly competent when it comes to-"

Barbara giggled.

Dick stopped. "When it comes to messing with your partner right after the mission, huh," he finished, rolling his eyes. "Babs! Honestly."

To someone else, someone who didn't know Dick half as well as she did, his tone might have sounded annoyed. He might have sounded like Dick Grayson, the stuffy goody two shoes daddy's boy with perfect grades and not so much as a parking ticket on his record.

Barbara knew him better.

She sat down on the edge of the building and let her legs swing over the side as she surveyed the Gotham skyline. Even at this hour, smog mixed with the low, grey clouds, lit by a waning moon.

He sat down next to her, followed her gaze to the sky. "Thinking about heading home and getting in some rest?"

"Thinking about heading home and getting in some _research._" She steepled her gloved fingers, green eyes suddenly narrowing. "What is it about this guy that has all these kids following him? Like, brainlessly following him? Ruining their reputations in order to do whatever he says? There's something at work here that might be even more unusual than his fire powers and I'm not sure if locking him up is going to be good enough to make it stop."

"...That's actually what I was thinking about when I said to be careful," he said. "I didn't want… you know. He sounded dangerous, based on the little we knew about him going in."

The tiniest bit of lingering annoyance she harbored at his telling her to be careful vanished.

"Yeah, well. I knew you'd be there when I needed you."

Dick looked at her, his expression earnest underneath the domino mask. "Good, Barbara. Good." He stood up, and as she watched, looked almost as though he might say something else. And then he leapt off of the building, and she held her breath, eyes wide, until she heard the familiar _shhhhk_ of his rappel gun as the cord shot out and the claw attached itself to the roof of a building on the next block- leave it to him to do that _after _he was already plummeting through the air.

Show off.

She headed home on her own. She didn't know what to make of Dick, half the time. She didn't know what he thought of the way she flung herself through the world sometimes. Everything was last minute with her, and it was rare for her to find a moment when she _wasn't_ multitasking.

But she got things done, didn't she? She swung towards the ground and her boots landed with a soft _splash _in a puddle. Sure, she got things done, but there were _always_ loose ends she couldn't manage to tie up, broken windows and scared civilians- she was a mess.

Not just at night, either. During the day she'd interrupt class a million times with questions that tended to undermine the teacher's authority, which was never what she was going for, but shouldn't she have learned to keep her mouth shut by now? Not just in class. All the time. She _really_ needed to tone it down around Dick. Honestly, what would he think of her?

She pushed up her bedroom window and clambered inside, shoving it shut behind her. She had to tone it down around him, or he would _know._ Wait, know what? Know that she- that she- ugh. She _liked _him.

Wow.

She flopped backwards on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to chase her thoughts into cohesion. Since when had she even liked Dick? She flipped over and- ew, suit on the bed- she jumped off and tugged off her boots.

These were thoughts for the morning.

**AN: ******I cannot thank Rookblonkorules enough- without her, this story would not exist! The word "inspiring" is not quite strong enough to describe what a wonderful writing buddy she is. In addition to being one who brings stubborn muses back to life, she is also an extremely talented writer, and has a whole lot of wonderful Dick/Babs fics! Find her stuff in my favorites list.


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